


Lathbora viran

by JanaRumpandRCClara



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cultural Differences, Dalish, Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:44:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3147998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanaRumpandRCClara/pseuds/JanaRumpandRCClara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard to see what your people had and lost.</p><p>Or how Lavellan feels about the Emerald Graves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lathbora viran

The Emerald Graves made him feel a weird ache on his chest. He wondered how anyone could live among so many graves, or how could humans say this place was beautiful – the same wouldn't be said of a dwarven burial chamber. Maybe it was because they simply ignored – called it legend and pretended it was okay.

When they saw the vilas, he knew the orlesians had cut trees to build them, and it filled him with anger. When he found an Exalted March monument, he waited until no one was looking to kick the stone and curse beneath his breath. He had never hated the human faith, though he indeed couldn't understand it. Yet, whenever he read words of hate spilled by those who had bathed this forest and the Dirth in elven blood, he wished Fen’harel would find them in their dreams and haunt them, just to show that not all their gods were gone.  
He sat on a root of a tree, whispering for the hundredth time.

“We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhenan and never again shall we submit.” It was foolish, he knew, but whispering the oath of the Dales made him feel like he hadn’t forgotten. Like he wasn’t a puppet of the shem, but someone to honor his people, and prove they were not to be forgotten.

How had this place been in the times of the Dales? He could almost see the Emerald Knights waking around with their wolves. He wondered if he would have been one of them – probably not- but he could dream.

“Fantasizing, da’len?” Solas voice brought him back to reality.

“A bit." At first he considered not talking, but it was useles, there was too much hurt inside him. "Ha’ren Melai used to tell stories about the Emerald knights… I never thought I’d actually see this forest... I didn’t know it would hurt to do it.”

The older elf sat next to him looking to the distance, frowning like he disapproved something – Creators, he probably did. Lavellan sighed, hugging his legs and resting his chin on his knee, he couldn’t understand Solas. However, right now, he didn’t care that much. He just wanted something to make sense, he just wanted this ridiculous pain to stop. If the mage tried to give him a lecture about how the Emerald knights were idolized by the dalish, Lavellan might just hit him.

“I know the pain you talk about. Lathbora viran, this longing for something that you never knew.”

“Yes… I guess that is it.”

There was silence. They were both just staring at what had once belonged to their people, but, as everything else, it had been taken away from them. Lavellan couldn’t help but wonder if he would be just another chapter of the elven history to be erased. Wondered if, a hundred years from now, they would mention he was Dalish, if they would say he believed in the Maker or something like that. He was tired of people looking at him with despise, of people calling him ‘the elf’ and expecting him to fail. There wasn’t anyone to talk to about this, well, there was Solas, but even if the older elf respected him, they still disagreed a lot.

“I just wish we had a place we belonged… I wish we could do more than stumble in the dark trying to find remains of past. I’m tired of people looking at us-”

“And only seeing a pair of pointy years?”

“Yes.”

Solas sighed and extended his hand touching the Inquisitor’s shoulder and stroking it with his thumb. The dalish elf felt his whole body stiffening, it was rare for anyone but his lover to touch him, but it was rarer for Solas to do it. Their eyes met, and there was a connection there, a connection he had missed so much. Someone that understood... He felt some pathetic tears rolling down his eyes, and wiped them right away. Solas smiled, looking at him and whispering.

“This day will come, da’len. I promise.”

“I hope we live to see it.”

"I hope as well."

**Author's Note:**

> Just some Dalish feels I had while walking about the Emerald Graves.  
> (Yes, in my world my elf kicked those Exalted March monuments, and he whispered the oath of the dales whenever he missed home)
> 
> That's it, and I have mixed feelings about Solas.
> 
> Kissus
> 
> Edit: now beta'd


End file.
